


Hooligans

by crow_feathers



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Agender Frisk (Undertale), Alcoholic Sans, Gender Dysphoria, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Other, Past Child Abuse, Timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16779196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crow_feathers/pseuds/crow_feathers
Summary: Six years ago, a human child falls into the underground. Six years ago, they managed to break the barrier. Six years later, Frisk is starting to realize that had been the easy part.No matter how far they run, they can't hide from their true self.It always catches up.





	1. Vandals

“Yo dude, we doing this or what?”

Frisk raises their hand to block out the sun, squinting at their friend. Monster Kid (they go by Ace now, they remind themself) is giving them a toothy grin.

The abandoned library looms over them, old and covered in vines and looking gloomy. Frisk shivers despite the warmth of the evening. They’re eyeing the mural, a pleasant scene depicting a lone swan floating gracefully on a pond. Frisk never liked it. Even now, it looks haughty and judgmental.

“Mom is gonna be so pissed if she finds out about this.” ‘Pissed’ is an understatement, really. Toriel is strict enough to make Frisk have second thoughts. They can’t even begin to think of what kind of punishment she would give them, or how long it might last.

“Ha! Man, I’m so glad my parents don’t give a shit. Don’t worry, she won’t find out.” Ace turns around, looking back at Frisk impatiently. “It’s in my bag, dude. Hurry up and help me get this off.”

“I seriously have no idea how you manage this thing,” the human says, carefully undoing the buckles on the backpack’s harness. It’s been covered in various video game and super hero stickers, they notice faintly. “Have you been wearing the same shirt all week?”

“Nah, man. I just have a bunch that look the same is all. And I manage just fine-”

“Sure you do,” Frisk teases.

“Well, yeah, it is easier to just have someone else do it for me. But I can get it on my own! It just takes a little longer.” 

Undoing the last buckle, Frisk sets the pack on the ground. There’s three cans of red spray paint inside. They hand one to Ace, who promptly grabs it in their mouth. Gross. Frisk grabs the other two, and they start shaking the cans. “So, what are we doing? Pentagrams? Dicks?” 

Both teens gasp in unison. Ace’s can of paint falls to the ground with a small thud.

“Pentagrams made out of dicks?”

“Hell yeah.”

An hour later, and the mural is pretty thoroughly ruined, Frisk thinks proudly. The swan is almost impossible to make out now, covered in blasphemy and obscene symbols. They put their hands on the hips and admire their handiwork. “You know, I always hated this stupid swan.”

Ace spits out their now empty paint can and grins. “See, dude, I told you this would be awesome.” They glance up towards the sky. “Getting dark. Help me get this back on?” They nod at the backpack, and Frisk obliges. 

“You know, we should have made it, like, weep blood,” Frisk notes.

“Dude! That would have been so rad!”

They finish the last clasp and shove their hands in their jeans pockets. “Are we just gonna leave the cans here?”

“Yeah, man. That’s part of not getting caught.” 

“Cool,” Frisk says. “Hey, can I stay over tonight?” The two of them start walking, and Frisk tries not to feel guilty about littering. It’s just paint cans.

“Uh,” Ace starts. There’s something in their tone Frisk can’t quite place. “I mean I guess? If your mom is cool with it.”

“My uncle is staying with us and he’s all drunk and sad and shit.” Frisk runs their hand through their hair, frowning. They hate the sharpness that’s seeped into their voice. When did they start talking about their uncle like that? “I don’t wanna be around that, you know?”

“Ew, yeah.” Ace nods empathically. “But, like, is your mom cool with it?”

Frisk’s frown deepens. “I’ll text her and let her know, but I don’t really care if she gets mad. I can’t do the whole ‘oh god everything sucks and we’re all gonna die and it’s gonna be pointless’ shit today.” They roll their eyes for good measure.

Ace stops for a moment. “Whoa, dude. That’s,” they pause. “That’s intense.”

Frisk shrugs. “Yeah. Pretty much every night, too.”

They’re almost to Ace’s house now. Just a couple more blocks. The conversation has died, so Frisk fishes their phone out of their pocket.

“I’m just gonna call her. Don’t wanna text back and forth forever.”

“Cool.”

Frisk hits the button to speed dial Toriel with their thumb and brings the phone to their ear. They only have to wait a moment for her to pick up. 

“Hello, my child,” she greets as usual. She’s about to say something else, but Frisk cuts her off.

“Hey, I’m staying at Ace’s house tonight.” The words come out a little more forcefully than Frisk intended, but it’s too late now. There’s a pause. Frisk crosses their fingers and Ace glances back at them over their shoulder. 

“Oh,” is all she says for a moment. “Well, I was hoping-” Oh god, a guilt trip. Frisk rolls their eyes again. Best to cut her off at the knees.

“Yeah they’re really having a hard time with their math homework, so I’m gonna help them with that tonight. Okay, I’ll call in the morning love-you-bye!” The last few words come out so fast Toriel hopefully won’t have time to process that they’ve just hung up on her. They promptly turn off their cell for good measure. They’ll tell her they wanted to save battery life.

“Dude,” Ace starts at they arrive at the house, “we just started summer vacation. We don’t have homework.”

Frisk groans. “Aw, fuck.” How in the hell did they manage to forget?

Thankfully, Ace just laughs and doesn’t question it. “Yeah, you’re probably gonna be in trouble when you get home.”  
  


Entering Ace’s room, Frisk’s heart lurches and they feel like they’ve made a mistake. They haven't spent the night over since they were little kids. A lot of things have changed since then.

“Yo, how come we stopped hanging out for so long?” Ace blurts out suddenly, as if reading their thoughts.

Frisk shrugs. “I dunno. Depression shit.” There’s no point in lying, really. It should have been pretty obvious. All they had done in their free time for the last year and a half was alternate between sleeping and crying in their room. For a while, they had only left their house for school. They shrug off their backpack and set it behind the door. 

“Oh.” Ace’s expression falls for the slightest second, but they recover quickly. “I mean, I wondered if something was up, but you really acted like you wanted to be left alone...” Ace trails off and turns their back on the human, and they don’t have to ask.

Frisk starts helping Ace with the backpack. “I did want to be left alone. Nothing personal,” they wince as they accidentally pinch their finger with a clasp, “I just, um. I didn’t feel like company for a while. I don’t know to describe it. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, dude. You, uh, don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks. You guys got anything to eat?”


	2. Leftovers

Ace’s parents are out of town for the evening (“Boring adult shit or something, I dunno”) and they end up heating up leftover meatloaf in the microwave. It’s not very good, but it’s something. Ace devours their portion with record speed and heads upstairs to change, leaving Frisk at the table.

Frisk resists the urge to throw the remaining portion of meatloaf in the trash, idly poking at it with their fork and wondering if Mom is serving snail pie again. They’re trying to shake off the nagging guilt of leaving Mom stuck dealing with Drunk Uncle Sans tonight, but they have to admit that having a dinner without tears and drama has been a forgotten luxury. They stare at the meatloaf, lost in thought.

“Dude!” Ace calls, making Frisk jumps a little at the sudden shout. “You don’t have to eat all of it. I don’t care if you throw it away, man.” Ace has reappeared at the bottom of the staircase, now wearing pajamas.

“Oh thank god.” Frisk stands up abruptly. “Sorry,” they add sheepishly. They scrape the offending portion into the trash with relief. “Do you have any pants I can borrow? Don’t wanna sleep in jeans.” The dish is set neatly in the sink for now.

“Yeah, dude, just grab whatever. Pretty sure we still wear the same size.”

The lurching feeling in their gut is back for some reason, and Frisk is thankful that they didn’t force themself to finish off the meatloaf. “Sweet.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, they’re changed into a slightly too-big pair of Ace’s pajama pants, seated comfortably on Ace’s bed and flipping through TV channels. Currently, there’s a trashy reality show playing. A woman is being interviewed, and she’s ranting something incoherent about a “baby daddy.” The crowd jeers.

“There is literally nothing good to watch,” Frisk whines.

Ace rolls their eyes. “Dude. For real. I don’t know why Mom and Dad pay for this crap.”

Frisk mutes the TV. “Holy shit. I always forget that you have to pay for cable. Got anything good on DVD?”

The woman on screen gestures dramatically, eyes wide, and Ace taps their foot against the wood floor thoughtfully for a moment. “I have some movies in there,” they nod towards their shelf, “but I don’t remember if they’re any good or not. I haven’t really watched any of them since, uh,” they trail off and Frisk could swear their voice tightens for the tiniest second, “we hung out last.”

“Oh.” Frisk hops off the bed, finding they have to hold onto the waist of the pants to keep them from sagging down too much. “Well, I guess we’ll find out.” They make their way to the shelf.

“Dude. Wow.”

“Huh?”

“I’m just, like, surprised my pants are so big on you now, man.”

“Oh. Yeah, I think you outgrew me sometime in the last year or so.”

“Yo, it’s kind of,” Whatever they’re about to say, they not so subtly cut themself off. “It’s kinda funny. That you, uh, have to hold them up.” Ace laughs weakly.

Frisk decides not to push it and browses the DVD collection. Their free hand ends up on the spine of a movie titled “A Courageous Little Hairdryer” and finds themself frowning at a distant memory. “You remember this one?” They remove it from the shelf and present it to their friend.

“Oh, dude.” Ace wrinkles their nose at it. “I hardly remember that one. I don’t even know why-”

Frisk interrupts. “Wanna watch it?”

Ace’s eyes widen for a moment before smoothing out into a snarkier expression. “I mean, sure, if you want to watch a baby movie that I should’ve thrown in the trash years ago…”

The credits are rolling, and Frisk’s eyes are threatening to water. The soft, melancholy piano score is doing a good job tugging at their heartstrings. They turn their head away so Ace won’t see.

“This movie is actually, uh,” Ace starts. They’re trying to act cool, which Frisk appreciates, but their voice sounds close to wavering.

“Kinda sad,” Frisk finishes. 

They dab at their eye with their sleeve. Damn it, they’re too old to be crying at kid movies.

“Whoa dude, are you crying?”

Now that they’ve been noticed, there’s no use trying to pretend they aren't crying. A sniffle forces its way out, and the human can feel the heat in rising in their cheeks. So fucking embarrassing.

“I’m just-” their voice chokes. They really can’t tell the truth and admit that the only reason they’re crying at a children’s movie is because they’re on their period. Well, they could, but…

Ace coughs awkwardly, pulling them out of their thoughts. Luckily, they’re not outright bawling, so they wipe their eyes again and force out a shaky laugh.

“I’m fine, man.” Ace is squinting at them skeptically, but they keep talking. “I just feel bad for the curling iron. Like,” they sniffle again, still feeling incredibly childish, “it really loved the hair dryer, you know?”

Ace starts laughing. Frisk folds their arms indignantly, though they can feel a smile worming its way onto their face. “What’s so funny?”

“Frisk,” Ace says, falling over backwards onto the bed and outright cackling now, “you are so mushy!”

“Oh, I’m the mushy one?” Frisk swats playfully at their friend. “Last I checked I didn’t have any little kid baby movies in my room.”

Ace stops laughing right in the middle of a snort and it feels like in an instant the atmosphere of the room has shifted.

The human’s voice softens. “Um, I’m just teasing you.” Frisk turns their head away again, hiding their face. An emotion they can’t quite identify is bubbling in their stomach, like melting butterflies.

“It’s kinda crazy,” Ace’s voice is equally soft, “like...everything is the same, but different now.”

“Yeah.” The bubbling has turned into a knot in Frisk’s stomach. They ignore it. “It’s weird. Because you don’t even realize you’re changing until you don’t recognize yourself anymore.”

It’s silent again for a few minutes, until Frisk lets out a sigh. “I’m tempted to go back to being mute again.” The words tumble out too fast, and they wish there was a way to take them and shove them back in. The knot tightens for some indiscernible reason.

“Why… why’s that?” Ace’s tail is starting to thrash from side to side, and it’s making Frisk’s heart pound harder than it should be. Again, inexplicable guilt creeps forward. They shouldn’t be making their friend worry. They shouldn't have dropped out of their life the way they had.

“Ugh, I don’t know. I miss when nobody expected me to have opinions on anything, you know?”

Ace somehow manages to shrug, even without arms. “I don’t know, Frisk.”

“It’s, like, just because I fell down a hole a couple years ago and managed to climb out, people think I’m somebody, somebody that matters or whatever, and I’m not. I’m just a freak.” They fold their arms and let out a bitter laugh. “I’m nobody special, you know? And I’m not...” they trail off.

“You’re not what?” Ace is craning their neck around to try and make eye contact, but Frisk won’t let them.

The tension feels suffocating.

“I’m not...um, nevermind.” The human stands up abruptly. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom and get ready for bed. I’ll be back soon.” They scoop the backpack off the floor on their way out.

“Yo, why do you need to take your pack with you to use the bathroom?”

“It has, um, stuff I need in it. Gross human stuff.” The human’s face is probably starting to turn red, but thankfully Ace takes the hint and doesn’t respond as Frisk starts trudging down the stairs.

Their bathroom preparations don’t take long. They’ve gotten very good at changing pads and tampons as quickly as possible. It hurts to think about it, let alone see it. Ever since they had hit puberty, but especially after starting to get their period, something had started to feel wrong. Deep in their chest, it would start to ache if they dwelt on these wrong feelings. They can’t help but scowl; trying to figure out why it hurts only seems to make it hurt more.

Luckily, there’s a trash bin, in which Frisk hurridley deposits their unsightly trash. Out of sight, out of mind. After finishing all of their unpleasant bathroom related duties, they take a moment to appraise themself in the mirror.

No wonder Ace took pity on them and agreed to hang out today. They look like shit. They stare into their own eyes, trying not to be bothered at how dull they are. There are matching dark circles under each eye, highlighting how little sleep they’ve been getting. They watch their face morph into a scowl when they remember why they haven't been sleeping. 

Out of curiosity, they force their face into a grin, wondering how convincing they can make it. The hollowness in their eyes isn’t making their plastered on grin very persuasive.

Either way, at least their hair is clean and brushed. It’s the best they’ve been able to do lately. Just a couple weeks ago they’d barely been able to brush their teeth or shower regularly. Just a couple weeks ago, getting out of bed had felt like climbing a mountain.

Well, whatever. Frisk shakes their head in an unsuccessful attempt to clear their mind and heads back to Ace’s room, making sure to bring the backpack.

“Yo, you sure you don’t wanna stay up longer? It’s only like, ten.” Somehow, Ace has managed to put the DVD back into its case and apparently just placed it on the shelf.

Frisk gives a noncommittal shrug. “I’m pretty tired, actually. You don’t need to stay up or anything. We have the whole summer to hang out.” They move to the bed, making a point to avoid eye contact. “If you want to, I mean.”

Ace rolls their eyes. “Of course I wanna hang out this summer.” They join Frisk on the bed. “Look, dude, obviously you’ve had, um.” They frown slightly, brow furrowing for a moment. “You had stuff going on last year. I’m not, like, mad.”

“Thanks,” they manage.

They end up deciding to share the bed like they had as children, though now there’s less room to spare. They’re lying side by side under the covers, staring up at the ceiling when Ace breaks the silence.

“Man, I didn’t realize how much bigger we’d both gotten,” they mumble.

Frisk feins a yawn. “Yeah. It’s been a while,” is all they can force out. It’s dawning on them a little too late that they’re too old to be sharing a bed anymore. Especially not with them. They’re thankful that the light is out; their expression and flushed face would probably give them away. That is, unless their rapid heartbeat won’t.

“Goodnight,” they murmur. 

There’s no response. Their friend is already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I browse Undertale fic, the more I realize how unoriginal I am. That's okay, though. I'm still having fun.


	3. Caught

Frisk wakes up to a harsh sunlight spilling out from the widow, assaulting their face. Ace is apparently already out of bed, leaving Frisk alone in their room. For a split second, they’re engulfed in thick, bittersweet nostalgia. It feels like a lifetime since they’ve woken up in Ace’s bed. A heat fills their face when they pull the covers down over their head and inhale deeply, indulging in Ace’s scent. It’s definitely a creepy thing to do, but they hadn’t realized how much they missed it until now.

As much as they would love to stay in Ace’s bed forever, they have to get up and face the day eventually. They throw the covers off and groan, tiredly rubbing at their eyes before sitting up.  
There’s a faint smell of...something, hopefully food, wafting from the landing. They decide to get dressed and call their mother before investigating.  
Shutting the door and changing into their outfit from yesterday, they turn their phone back on, wincing at the three voicemails in their inbox. One from Toriel, two from Uncle Sans. They play the one from Toriel first.

“My child, you do realize that I know summer break has just started, do you not?” Goddamnit. Of course she had seen through their flimsy excuse. “I am not angry, but please do not lie to me again, Frisk. Please be home by noon tomorrow.” 

They play the messages from Sans next.

“Heya, kiddo,” naturally, his words are slurring together, drunk, and he’s mumbling so much Frisk can hardly understand him. “It’s not,” there’s a slight thud - probably him falling over something - followed by a long pause, then he continues, “it’s, it’s not nice to lie to your mother, you know?” Despite being alone, Frisk rolls their eyes. Pretty bold of him to attempt a guilt trip. “She’s real worried about you.” He rambles on in this vein for at least another minute before Frisk stops the message.

Frisk sneers and deletes all three messages without bothering to listen to the last one. It’s probably just more drunken nonsense. Their sneer works its way into a frown. There was a time when their uncle hadn’t spent all of his time getting drunk and ranting about how nothing actually matters. Sure, he had liked to drink, and he always had a slight melancholy air to him, but it was nothing like this. What happened to that uncle?

They pocket their phone and shake their head before following the smell into the kitchen. Ace is, predictably, already there. There’s an empty box of pizza rolls on the countertop, and the buzzing of the microwave indicates the source of the smell.

“Hey.” Ace is standing in front of the microwave, staring at it and not bothering to look at Frisk as they enter. They’re still wearing their pajamas.

Frisk points at the microwave. “Are you making enough for both of us?” Their stomach is growling; they hadn’t ate much meatloaf last night.

“Yup!” Ace bounces on their feet. “I was about to wake you up if you didn’t come out soon.”

“Sweet.” They help themself to a plate from the cupboard. “I should probably go home after I eat. Mom left a voicemail. She said she wants me home by noon.”

“She didn’t fall for the homework excuse again, did she?” The microwave beeps, and Ace insists on removing the plate from the microwave with their mouth. Frisk has seen them do it hundreds of times, and it still makes them cringe every time. They have no idea how they aren’t burning their mouth.

Frisk laughs lightly. “Nope. She said she’s not mad, but I shouldn’t lie to her.”

Ace sets the plate on the counter and hmm’s thoughtfully. “I thought she was more strict than that.”

The human shrugs. “She’s been more lenient recently.” They quickly move half of the pizza rolls to their plate, fingers feeling slightly burned. “I think she’s afraid that it’s somehow her fault that I’m,” they gesture at themself lamely, “you know, like this.”

“Frisk…” Ace’s cheerful demeanor falters for a moment, and it’s like a knife through Frisk’s heart. They shouldn’t be upsetting their friend like this.

“It’s okay, dude.” They blow on a pizza roll to cool it down. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be all dramatic and shit like my uncle.” For a brief moment, they wonder if Sans feels guilty about how he makes Toriel worry. Frisk shoves that thought out of their head quickly.

Ace looks like they’re about to say something heavy after they finish chewing their food, so Frisk changes the subject. “When are your parents supposed to get home?”

“I dunno, sometime in the afternoon I think. Why?”

Frisk can’t come up with a good answer. “Just wondered.” They shove another pizza roll in their mouth. It burns the inside of their mouth a bit, but at least it’s not meatloaf.

Frisk pokes their head inside the door before entering their house, making sure to shut the door gently behind them. There’s no sign of Mom or either of their uncles, at least in the dining room. Just as they feel confident that they’re off the hook, a voice from the living room greets them.

“Oh! Hello, Frisk.” Her voice is pleasantly neutral, though that doesn’t guarantee her actual mood. “Will you please join me in the living room?”

Yeah, they are definitely in trouble.

Frisk enters the living room cautiously. “Hi, Mom.”

She’s seated in her favorite recliner in the corner of the room, and she gestures to the loveseat before clasping her paws together and resting them on her knee. Frisk sets their backpack in front of the loveseat and sits. They pointedly stare down at the floor.

The human and monster sit across each other in silence for a moment, and somehow it’s worse than actually being assigned a punishment. They don’t realize that they’ve been holding their breath until she starts talking.

“Frisk, I know that you are a teenager now,” she adjusts her glasses in a way that’s unlike her before continuing. “I know teenagers require more independence than younger children, however…”

This conversation is not going how Frisk had expected it to go. They sneak at glance at her expression, but her face is unreadable.

Toriel sighs deeply. “I am disappointed by your lying, but I will not punish you this time.” Her words are calm and measured, but that’s probably just the calm before the storm. The human’s heart is starting to beat slightly faster. They re-focus their gaze on the floor as she continues.

“You are too old to be having sleepovers, Frisk.” Her voice lowers slightly, and the chair creaks slightly as she leans forward. “I do hope that you were, ah, safe last night, but if you were not, I believe it would be best for me to know now.”

Frisk nearly hurts their neck with how fast their head snaps up to catch her eyes. They definitely hadn’t expected to hear her say that.

They’re completely caught off-guard, and all they can manage is a lame sounding, “Huh?” What is she trying to get at? They’re aware of their mouth hanging open, but what?!

Toriel raises her brow. “Please do not play dumb with me, Frisk.” Her voice is cold, but there’s something else there, too.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.” Despite their face starting to feel hot at the insinuation, they’re only half lying. Are they sweating? They’re probably about to start sweating.

Toriel sighs deeply before rising out of her chair. “Well. I have already said that you won’t be punished for yesterday. But I would appreciate it if you would stop lying to me.” Standing in the threshold, she adds, “Obviously, there will be no more sleepovers.”

“But-”

“You heard me, Frisk.” 

She doesn’t sound angry, more distantly sad than anything else, but Frisk hangs their head anyway. 

After an awkward dinner, Frisk retreats to their bedroom, throwing themself on to their bed for a good sulk. The window blinds are open, letting the warmth shine onto the human. The sunshine isn’t really lifting their mood at all, though. It’s really not fair; they haven’t done anything wrong. 

Well, nothing that Toriel would know about. It’s undeniable they can’t help but feel a twinge of pride that they haven't been caught for ruining the swan mural. But they definitely haven't done...the things that Toriel was trying to imply. Does she really think they’re that slutty? And telling them to be safe? Are humans and monsters even compatible like that…?

A loud beep makes Frisk jump, and when they reach for the phone, their heart lurches at seeing that it’s a text from Ace. They haven’t texted back and forth over the last year and a half. A stabbing sensation pierces their heart when they remember that they had been the one to stop texting.

“Yo, you get grounded yet?”

Apparently, voice to speech software has improved a lot recently, or maybe Ace just got a new phone. Last time Ace had been texting them, the messages were riddled with chatspeak, every word abbreviated and nearly indecipherable. Frisk pecks out a message back.

“Not really, but she said no more sleepovers”

“For real? Lame. I kinda understand, though.”

Frisk’s heart flutters again, but they force themself not to make it weird. They end up having to wipe the sweat off their palm and onto their jeans before they can send a message back.

“Tell me about it, I can’t escape my uncle so easily now”

Perfect. Casual, hopefully funny, not weird at all.

Earlier, they had asked Toriel about Sans before heading to their room. Apparently, his brother had already collected him in the morning. It’s a shame they rarely get to see the uncle they actually like.

“LOL. Yo, if you can get out without any problems, you should meet me at the park tomorrow.”

Frisk squints at the last message. They really need to be careful for the next couple days; getting grounded less than a week into summer vacation would be less than ideal. They’re about to say as much when another text comes through.

“It’s nothing you would get in trouble for, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Frisk can’t help but smile now. The prospect of spending time with Ace again, outside of school, is truly a glorious thing to look forward to.

“What time? Around one?”

“Yeah, that works.”


	4. Reflection

By the time Frisk finally makes it back home, they’re soaked to the bone and gasping for breath. It’s not supposed to rain like this in summer, but within an hour of meeting Ace at the park, it had started to mist. By the time the two of them had decided to declare the endeavor a bust, it had began pouring. They had started to run, but it seems like the most that accomplished was simply getting Frisk even more thoroughly soaked and tired. The human shivers while they fumble with their door key. The rain clatters down, almost unbearably loud all around them.

When they finally get the door unlocked, it occurs to them that they could have just knocked. Or texted - thank god their phone is water resistant. Well, it’s too late now. They take a moment to squeeze some of the wetness out of their hair before entering. At least they’re out of the rain now. The house is as warm (and more importantly, dry) as ever.

“Mom? I’m back,” they call, gingerly removing their wet shoes and leaving them by the door.

No response. They’re about to call again, louder, when they hear it: soft giggles coming from the kitchen. They can feel their face reflexively morph into a scowl, fists clenching slightly. They close their eyes. Deep breaths, they remind themself. Opening their eyes and unfurling their fists, they make their way to the kitchen.

“I’m home,” They announce as loudly and abruptly as possible.

Somehow, they manage to keep themself from smirking when Sans is startled off the counter and on to the floor. He falls into a heap and doesn’t both to try righting himself, apparently either too out of it or too depressed to care about being on the floor.

Toriel rushes to kneel beside him, completely unphased by Frisk’s shout.

Sans just puts a hand to his head and groans. He looks hungover. It’s only slightly better than him being drunk, really.

“Frisk,” Toriel starts, “you should really be more-”

“I didn’t know anyone was coming over,” they lie. 

Toriel turns to look at them, eyes narrowed and frown tight. It’s an expression so stern Frisk almost feels like they’re wilting.

“Sorry.” They start to shove their hands in their pockets, only to find them wet. They grimace.

“I was gonna be out later, but you know, the rain.”

Toriel helps Sans to his feet before responding.

“Frisk, why don’t you go to your room and change out of those wet clothes?” There’s no room in her voice for arguing, so Frisk simply says “Yes, ma’am,” and leaves.

They linger at the doorway for a moment, out of sight.

Frisk can just barely hear Toriel sigh deeply. “Honestly, I don’t understand what has gotten into that child recently.” 

They bite down on their lip.

“Hopefully it is nothing more than teenage moodiness, but I am beginning to worry.” She sounds so remorseful, voice deflated. “Before Frisk, none of my children have stayed with me for so long.” Her voice is heavy with sorrow.

Sans cuts in. “I wouldn’t worry too much about ‘em, Tori.” He somehow manages to sound resigned than her. “Looks like they’re, uh, going through some stuff…” His voice trails off, and Frisk decides it’s time to leave now.

Frisk decides to take a shower before they change, relishing in the chance to warm up properly. They stay in until the hot water runs out. They haven’t taken a long shower in forever; they can’t shake the feeling of wrongness when they look at themself in the mirror. Actually, thinking about it, for a while, in their deepest, darkest depression, they had simply stopped showering. Their nose wrinkles at the thought of how bad they must have smelled.

After getting dressed as hastily as possible in clean, dry clothes, they head back to their room. They launch themselves into their bed, cringing when their phone digs into their hip. They’d forgotten they’d pocketed it.

Despite the complete soaking, the phone doesn’t look particularly worse for wear. Of course, they had begged for the most durable phone their mother could afford last Christmas. A pang of guilt suddenly seizes their chest.

Before they have time to dwell on it, the phone buzzes with a text from Ace.

“Yo, dude, I totally didn’t think it was gonna start pouring like that! Sorry bro.”

Something about the word bro is crawling its way under their skin, but they ignore it and force their fingers to punch out a reply.

“No man it’s cool, I shouldn’t have ditched you like that haha”

You should apologize, they think. Again, they ignore the thought. Why are their hands starting to tremble, all of a sudden? Low blood sugar, maybe. They probably just need a snack.

Their phone buzzes again.

“LOL dude I’m pretty sure humans are like, allergic to water or something. You guys totally freak out if you like, get wet without planning on it.”

Frisk can’t help but smile. Before they can reply, another message comes through.

“Yo, gotta go now, but you should come over tomorrow. I’m getting the new Lord of Murder game tomorrow! HYPE!”

The two end up texting back and forth for hours, until Frisk falls asleep.

It’s dark when Frisk wakes again. Staring up at the ceiling, a deep sorrow lingers in their chest, probably just the emotional after-image of some strange dream. They furrow their brow, trying to remember what it was, but all they can find is a vague sadness. Whatever. Their mouth is dry, so they throw the covers off and head to the kitchen.

They nearly shit themselves when they flick on the light. Uncle Sans is there, slouched against the cupboards and sitting on the kitchen floor, cradling a (probably) nearly empty bottle of whiskey. This isn’t the first time he’s passed out somewhere stupid, but it scares Frisk every time nonetheless. He moves his head to up meet the human’s eyes.

“Hey.” His voice is gravelly.

“Uh, hi,” they manage. Thankfully he’s not blocking the way to the sink. They start filling up a glass of water.

“So, you wanna talk about it?”

Frisk takes a long drink from their glass before answering.

“That’s funny, I was about to ask you that.” Internally, they cringe at their words. It’s a pretty shitty thing to say, even if it is true.

He’s probably offended, but he chuckles anyway. “What’s that human expression?” He grins a little too wide, though Frisk has seen it so many times by now it’s not intimidating anymore. “Oh yeah, ‘it takes one to know one,’ right?”

Frisk can feel their hand squeezing the glass so hard it hurts. They don’t respond.

“You know, kid,” he continues hollowly, “I think we all know that it’s too late for me. I’m a drunk ol’ piece of shit. But the thing is, you’re just a kid, yeah? You don’t have to end up like me, buddy.”

“I’m,” they’re stammering. “I’m not, no, I mean, I don’t even drink-”

Their uncle cuts them off with a harsh, raspy cackle. “It’s not about the drinking, Frisk. You know, your mother is really worried about you. We’ve been talking, and-”

They bristle at the mention of Toriel. “Hey,” they start, voice sharp, “leave Mom out of this.” They should probably be angry that their mother and uncle have been talking about them behind their back, but the anger just isn’t there.

“I’ll stop beating around the bush, then.” The skeleton pauses long enough to drink the last swig of whiskey. “She’s decided that she wants you to start therapy. She thinks she’s failed you as a parent, you know.”

Frisk swallows the rest of the water, setting the glass on the counter. “I don’t know why I’m like this,” they admit. Painful memories and old wounds bubble up inside their chest, but they push it down. They’ve never talked about it before; the three of them are always dancing around the subject, like it’s something dirty. Like it will rub off on them, taint them if they touch it.

“I mean,” they shove their hands into their pockets and stare down at the floor. “I remember when you guys just wanted me to stop being mute. I’m talking, now. Isn’t that good enough for you?” They force out laugh. It’s brittle.

Sans doesn’t respond, so Frisk cuts to the chase. “Do you even know why you’re the way you are?”

Enough time passes that they start to wonder if Sans has passed out, but he responds eventually.

“You should go back to bed, kiddo.”

Frisk leaves without another word.


	5. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some references of transphobia, homophobic slurs and past child abuse. Also gender dysphoria.

It’s a quarter past noon when Frisk startles awake from an already half forgotten nightmare, heart pounding and adrenaline pumping. There had been a knife in their hand. They let out a shaky curse and throw off the covers. Why were they clutching a knife in the dream? Their hands are sweaty. In the dream, they’d been bloody.

After putting on their least wrinkled outfit and giving their hair a half-hearted once-over with the brush, they all but tiptoe down the stairs. Strangely, Toriel is nowhere to be seen. Strange, but a welcome lucky break for Frisk. They slip out of the house as quietly as possible.

It’s only when they’re halfway to Ace’s house that it dawns on them that they’ll be showing up unexpected, and a wave of anxiety washes over them. They should have texted first. It’s too late now, though. Ace knows how long it takes to walk from one house to the other; asking now would feel wrong, somehow.

By the time they reach Ace’s house, their mind is swarming with all of the worst possible outcomes. It’s stupid, and they know it, but…

They steel themself and knock on the door anyway. It opens almost immediately.

“Oh! Hey dude!” Ace is on the other side, looking slightly disheveled. “I was gonna text and ask if you wanted to hang today. You’re like, a mind reader.” They grin, absolutely beaming, and Frisk’s knees almost go weak.

Instead of collapsing, they offer what they hope to be a smug grin.

Ace and Frisk are seated side by side, passing the controller back and forth while they take turns playing Ace’s new game. Both human and monster yelp as a scaly yellow tail nearly knocks the can of orange soda over. 

Frisk grabs the can and chugs the rest of the sickly sweet drink down while Ace leans back against the bed, somehow playing rather well, considering they’re using feet instead of hands. 

They let out a belch and place the now empty can back down. “Now we don’t have to worry about knocking it over,” they announce.

“That’s so disgusting, dude.” Ace doesn’t look away from the television, face screwed up in concentration. Their character is almost dead, the game demanding absolute focus.

“Hey, Mom won’t let me drink soda at home. Says it’ll rot my teeth. I gotta enjoy it when I have the chance.”

On screen, Ace’s character dies in a bloody explosion. Both teens groan.

“Oh man, dude. We were so close.” Ace kicks the controller away in irritation. It doesn’t go very far on the carpet. “I’m so over this game right now.”

“It would probably be easier if you bought one of those special controllers,” Frisk says, picking the soda can back up and playing with the tab.

Ace sighs heavily, and it sounds wrong, coming from them. “I already looked online for special controllers. It’s all human companies, and they only make them for disabled humans.”

“Oh,” Frisk responds, feeling stupid. Of course they already looked. Ace has spent their entire life without arms. Of course they've already looked into obvious things like controllers. “That’s really lame. Sorry, dude.”

“Eh. Somebody’ll start making them for monsters. Eventually.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, neither making a move to turn off the TV. Frisk pulls the tab off the can with a satisfying click.

“Um...Frisk?” Ace’s tone is upsettingly somber. That can’t be good.

“Yeah?” It’s a fight to keep their voice casual. Whatever Ace is about to ask, Frisk is already sure it’s going to result in awkwardness.

“So,” they’re trying to sound cool, but they can’t mask the apprehension in their voice. “Like, I noticed something a while back. About humans.” Ace reaches out with a scaly foot, dragging the controller back within comfortable playing range.

The knot in Frisk’s stomach comes back at full force, making them feel vaguely ill. Or maybe that’s just the sugar. It feels like an eternity before Ace starts talking again.

They keep their eyes fixated on the controller, pushing the thumbstick back and forth with their claw. “Yeah, um. So I noticed that you’re, like, the only human I know that isn’t a boy or a girl.” 

“Oh.” They feel suddenly dizzy. They hadn’t expected to be asked this. They find their mind blank. Considering that they've done their best to avoid dwelling on the subject, it’s not surprising they can’t formulate a response.

Another impossibly long moment passes before Frisk realizes that they haven’t really responded. 

“Um,” they manage. Wow, smooth.

“Yo, you don’t have to, you know, talk about it.” Poor Ace. They’re always so apologetic. It’s not their fault that Frisk is so fragile. So wrong.

“No, it’s.” They wave their hand, frustrated. “I never told you much about what things were like for me, um, before.”

Ace opens their mouth, but promptly shuts it before saying anything. Frisk isn’t sure if they’re grateful or not.

Childish as it is, the human can’t help but bring their knees to their chest, wrapping their arms around themselves in a hug. The used to do this all the time, at the old house. It makes them feel safe. “My birth family was really shitty,” they say, finally. They’re so weak, they shouldn’t be hanging on to things that happened so long ago. It shouldn’t be so difficult to talk about.

“They used-” Frisk’s voice gets tight, and they have to take a moment to compose themself again. Ace doesn’t say anything. Instead, they stop fiddling with the controller and scoot over to lean on the human, warmth familiar and soothing. Heat creeps into Frisk’s cheeks.

Ace is still keeping quiet, so Frisk continues. “Did you know I had a brother?” They don’t wait for an answer. “I always wanted to be like him. But, uh.” Why is this so fucking hard? “Well. I wasn’t, you know, born a guy. I’m supposed to be a girl.” The words are impossibly difficult, like they’re fighting to not be said.

The words keep coming. “Our parents wanted me to act like a girl, and you know, wearing dresses and having long hair and shit.” There’s a lump in their throat, but they keep talking. “But I never wanted any part of that. Once, I got ahold of the scissors and cut my hair short.” A shaky laugh escapes their mouth. “Mom - um, the old one - beat the shit out of me when she saw what I’d done.” A half wheeze, half laugh comes out entirely unbidden.

“What the fuck?” Ace doesn’t even try to disguise the horror in their muffled voice. “It’s just hair.”

“Not to some people. She started calling me a ‘dyke’ after that. Made my brother start calling me that, too.” Tears are starting to form in Frisk’s eyes, but they wipe them away and keep talking. 

“That’s why I threw myself down that mountain, actually. There was a legend that said that anyone who fell in would never come back. I didn’t care what was down there, or what could happen. I just didn’t want to go back to those people.”

Ace’s head on their shoulder is immensely comforting, and they have to stop themself from putting their arm around their friend. Neither youth speak for some time.

Ace finally speaks again. “So,” their voice sounds like they’re walking on a mental tightrope, “like, you always wanted to be a guy?”

“I-” they stop. It’s so, so stupid, but it feels as if saying it out loud will somehow condemn them. To what, they don’t know. By who, they don’t know. It’s stupid, but their heart pounds harder anyway. They’ve never said this out loud before.

They force the words out. “I don’t want to be either. Like, they always say girls have to grow up and be housewives, and have children, and do this, and do that, and I never really wanted to do any of those things. But I don’t want to be a guy, either. I just want to be me. I just want to be Frisk.”

“Oh.”

The urge to put their arm around their friend is almost overwhelming, but they manage to stop themself. “I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense.” They shrug, trying to release some of the tension in their shoulders. Ace doesn’t even react to their head suddenly being jostled about.

“It’s just weird because monsters just don’t care about that kind of stuff,” they murmur, starting to sound sleepy.

“Like, I always felt something was wrong with me, but after I fell down, everyone just referred to me as ‘they,’ or ‘the human.’ And… it felt right. I never knew I wanted to be called that before. When I think about it, jumping down that mountain was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me.”

“Fr-”

Frisk’s cell phone interrupts the monster with a loud beep. Both teens startle, Ace suddenly snapping upright, and the human groans as they reach for their phone. They’ll never admit it to Ace, but they had been very much enjoying the contact.

They don’t even have to unlock the phone to know that it’s a call from Toriel. They roll their eyes and answer.

“Hello, Frisk,” she greets. Ace blinks and nestles back into Frisk’s side, and for a moment they have trouble articulating a response - they hadn’t expected Ace to lean back into them.

“Hi, Mom. Yes, I’ll be home before dark.”

“Yes, I think that would be for the best.” Her voice is uncharacteristically cold, and it nearly makes Frisk shudder. “Do say hello to Ace for me, my child.”

“Wh-” Frisk doesn’t even get a single word out before she hangs up.

“Dude,” Ace says. “She sounded pissed. Kinda scary, actually.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely in some deep shit now,” they admit. They decide to leave out the parts where Toriel thinks they’ve been sleeping together, and that they snuck out of the house this morning. In hindsight, they don’t even know why they did it.

Experimentally, face heating up and heart racing, Frisk puts their arm around their friend.

Ace responds by nuzzling into their side deeper, and Frisk wonders if Ace can feel how fast their heart is beating.

“I should just stay over and really piss her off,” they say, trying to sound confident and cool.

They don't feel either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are my chapter breaks in weird places? I feel like they're in weird places. 
> 
> Anyway, I've been updating this about once a week, but the next chapter will be a bit longer due to real life bullshit going down. Sorry fam. As usual, concrit is always welcome and appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed it. :3


	6. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, new tags! TW for mentions of past self harm in this chapter.

When Ace comes to, they’re confused at first. They’re sitting up, definitely not in their bed, and they’re exceptionally groggy, unlike usual. Their pillow seems to be digging into their jaw in a strange, sharp way. Annoying.

They tiredly raise their head, and memory floods into them.  _ Oh. _ Of course they’re not in bed. They’re sitting next to Frisk. Actually, they’re straight up leaning on Frisk. It was their shoulder digging into their jaw. That makes a lot more sense. Maybe a little too much sense.

The TV and game console are both still on, though the game over music has stopped playing at some point. How long were they out? Carefully, so as not to disturb Frisk, they rise. Frisk has always been a heavy sleeper, so it’s not difficult.

The television and console are both hooked up to the same power strip, and Ace decides to simply turn the power off from there with one of their toes. It’s probably not great for the electronics, but they really don’t want to take any chances of waking Frisk if they can avoid it. Ace thanks the stars they aren’t as clumsy as they used to be.

Frisk is still sound asleep, and Ace takes a moment to appreciate how serene they look. Their face is relaxed for once, the faintest hint of a smile resting on it. Anymore, a genuine smile from Frisk is a rare sight. Their chest rises and falls with each breath, and Ace still finds it lovely to watch.

When they had shared a bed as children, Ace had often found themself waking up after their friend had went to sleep. Sometimes, they would simply watch their friend as they slept, like now. Other times, they would wriggle under their arms. They loved waking up with Frisk’s arms wrapped around them. It felt safe.

At some point, those arms had started sporting fresh cuts, a far cry from the only semi-recent, pinkish red lines that had been there when the two met. It had pained Ace to see them, back then, but they never mentioned it. They knew Frisk was sensitive about being asked, so they didn’t. They hadn’t wanted to upset their friend. They hadn’t wanted to risk Frisk thinking they were uncool, or that they couldn’t be trusted.

As the months went on, the cuts had slowly started to turn into deeper and deeper slashes, and then awful wounds. They should have said something. But they never did, and it kept getting worse. One particularly deep cut tore, once, when it was only partially healed. Despite being years ago, the memory is still painfully clear.

The two had been rough-housing, Frisk starting to raise their hands above their head to declare themself the winner of their game when it happened. They let out a horrible sound somewhere between a hiss and a whimper, their face twisting in pain. Ace still remembers how Frisk’s other arm went to the wound, clutching it tightly and gritting their teeth. They still remember how helpless they had felt, how their gut twisted with guilt.

By the time they had made it to the first-aid kit, Frisk’s sleeve had been completely soaked through with blood. Despite Ace’s panic, Frisk insisted they were fine. They only asked Ace for two things: help properly cleaning and bandaging the wound, and a promise to not tell anyone.

Ace had kept the promise, for the most part. Despite the advice-givers online urging them to tell an adult, they never did. They didn’t understand why someone would intentionally hurt themself, but they didn’t know how to help. If they didn’t understand, an adult definitely would not. Nothing good ever came from telling adults these things, they’d reasoned.

Thinking back on it now, they really should have told someone. Frisk was very good at hiding their pain. Too good, really. When Toriel had come to retrieve Frisk, the night their wound tore, Frisk masked their pain so well it had made Ace’s stomach churn. They smiled easily, laughed brightly, and lied about “losing” their blood soaked sweater effortlessly.

Turns out human blood will stain sweaters permanently.

But all that had happened years ago. Now, looking at Frisk asleep on the floor, they berate themself for not saying anything. Maybe if they had just told someone, Frisk wouldn’t be looking so rundown, so  _ tired, _ right now.

And just tonight Frisk had opened up about how horrible things had been for them before, and Ace had no fucking clue what to say. Were they the first person to know? Had Frisk told their real family about what their fake family had done to them, over something as stupid as a haircut?

They shouldn’t have asked Frisk about their gender. It just trudged up awful memories, and it’s not relevant. It doesn’t matter what they are. They’re still Ace’s best friend. They might even be more than that.

They shake their head. Even if Frisk did feel that way, they deserve better - so far, Ace has done nothing but let Frisk down time and time again.

Carefully, they settle back on the floor next to Frisk. They should wake Frisk, send them back home so they don’t get in trouble, but they’re feeling selfish tonight. They missed Frisk so much over the last summer they’re greedy for any time alone with them.

They rest their head against Frisk again and sigh. Their soul wavers in their chest. They know Frisk needs  _ something _ , but they don’t know  _ what. _

They do know one thing, though. They’re going to help Frisk, no matter what it takes.


	7. Ours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hey you, reading this.
> 
> I love you <3

They’re lost. Their legs ache, their arms feel heavy, and they want nothing more than to collapse onto the damp, chilly ground and become one with the dirt. They’re so tired. But they keep walking. The end is here somewhere, they tell themself again.

It’s foggy, and they can barely see their hands in front of them. They shove their hands back into their pockets and keep walking. It’s slow going - if they trip and fall, they know they won’t get back up. So they keep walking. Slow, steady.

They could swear they hear something, some kind of deep rumble that sounds like it’s coming from the earth itself. They don’t dare turn around. It’s best to pick a direction and stick to it. So they keep walking.

The rumble gets louder. They clench their fists.

They keep walking.

A high-pitched whine pierces their ears, and the earth shakes. They fall to their knees, covering their ears.

By the time they see the train’s lights, it’s too late.  
  


Frisk snaps awake with what they intended to be a shout. It comes out a hoarse cry instead. Groaning, they try to rub the blurriness (and the nightmare) out of their eyes. Ace’s head weighs heavily on their shoulder, and they vaguely remember falling asleep on the floor. Mom had called, waking them both, and they had made the stupid decision to stay over just to piss her off.

Well, maybe not  _ just _ to piss her off. Ace is still slumped up against them, snoring lightly. If they do get grounded, it will be worth it. They can’t resist the urge to put their arm around them. They probably shouldn’t - not when they’re pretty sure Ace is more than just a friend to them now, but they don’t care. Smiling, they can’t help but wish time would freeze right here. Forever.

On the subject of time, they look for their phone. It’s just within their reach. With minimal leaning, they manage to pull it closer with their free hand. The display informs Frisk that it’s almost six. Good. It’s still daylight outside, so they’re not in trouble yet.

They really should get up and go home. They’ve already made an ass of themself here, and if they get grounded they’ll have less time to spend with Ace anyway. Still, they can’t bring themself to get up and leave. Not yet.

They’re about to lean back and try to fall asleep again, despite their aching muscles, when Ace wakes with a groan. Looks like all good things really must come to an end.

“Damn,” Ace murmurs. Their voice is still low and raspy with tiredness. “Guess we ended up taking a nap, huh?” They yawn, and it makes Frisk yawn too.

If Ace is offended by Frisk’s arm being on them, they don’t let it show. They push themself up, managing to swat Frisk in the face with their tail in the process.

“Oops. Sorry, dude.” They give Frisk a shit-eating grin.

“You totally did that on purpose, didn’t you?” They try to look irritated, but they’re smiling anyway.

“Yo, are you gonna get up or are you just gonna sleep on the floor all day?”

“Ugh, I’m getting up.” They rise, allowing themself a stretch. Their sore joints crack in protest.

“So, are you gonna, like, go home, or…?”

The question hangs in the air more heavily than it should, and Frisk’s heart starts beating harder. It takes them a moment to respond.

“I, uh, haven’t made up my mind yet.” They shove their hands in their pockets and give Ace an awkward smile.

“We got, like, at least an hour of daylight left.” Their expression is hard to read, and the silence drags on for at least a minute before Ace blurts out, “We should go back to the park!”

The walk to the park doesn’t take long, really, but it feels like forever to Frisk. They can’t quite put their finger on it, but even outside, the atmosphere feels off somehow. After agreeing to try the park again, neither one of them seems to be in the mood for conversation.

They’ve always been good at comfortable silences, but this isn’t that. It’s awkward. Frisk wraps their arms around themself, despite the pleasantly warm summer air.

Eventually, they arrive. Even with the remaining daylight, the park feels foreboding at night. The rustle in the trees is almost menacing. Still, it’s nowhere near as terrifying as the Snowdin forest had been. Frisk shivers just thinking about it.

“So, what were you going to show me in the park?” Frisk asks, unable to tolerate the silence any longer.

“There’s a place,” Ace responds unhelpfully. “Just follow me, dude.” Twigs snap underneath their feet with each step.

“We’re not staying overnight, are we?” Just because it’s not cold outside doesn’t mean Frisk is in the mood for camping. There’s bugs outside. Mosquitos cling to them even now, despite their efforts to wave them away.

“Hell no. I just wanna to show you something. It’s cool, trust me.” Aces charges forward confidently, and Frisk is wishing they would slow down at least a little. Their legs are getting sore from navigating the uneven, slippery terrain.

“Hey,” they call, “can monsters see in the dark? Better than humans?”

“I know I can’t.”

The conversation dies again, leaving just the sounds of the park as the teens walk. Frisk dutifully follows, accepting their fate of death by mosquito bites. At some point, they’ve left the designated nature trail, and to their credit they’re only slightly concerned about it. Ace knows what they’re doing, they reassure themself.

“Alright, we’re here!” Ace stops so abruptly that Frisk almost bumps into them, and they realize faintly they haven’t been paying much attention to their surroundings.

“So, what is here?”

“Dude.”

That’s when Frisk sees it. Tucked away in a seemingly forgotten corner of the park, a tiny stream pours into an equally tiny pond, mimicking a waterfall more than actually being one. It looks more like something one would find deep in the forest, instead of the park. There’s even moss growing growing on the rocks surrounding the shallow pool.   


The sun is just starting to set, and the entire scene is bathed in a soft orange-yellow glow. Coming closer, they see the water is clear enough to examine their reflection.

They look tired. They don’t know what they were expecting.

Still, it’s a beautiful place.

“Wow,” they manage.

“Pretty sweet, huh?” Ace doesn’t wait for Frisk to respond. “Yeah, it’s even better after the rain, ‘cause there’s more water.”

“It’s so pretty.”

Ace’s voice softens, and Frisk has to strain to hear them. “Yeah, it really is.” There’s a long pause as Ace carefully picks their way across the slippery rocks to take a seat by the pool. Surprisingly, they only come close to falling once. Frisk wonders if their friend’s newfound balance is related to their claws growing out.

“Well?” Ace asks impatiently, shaking Frisk out of their musings. They shiver when they dip their bare feet into the water.

“I’m just shocked you didn’t faceplant like you used to.” They give Ace a smug grin as they make their way over.

Ace sticks out their tongue. “Hey, I haven’t fallen over in at least a year.” 

Frisk smiles and seats themself next to Ace. They try to ignore the dampness they’re sitting in.

“I come here when I feel shitty, sometimes,” Ace says abruptly. Frisk tries to meet their eyes, but they’re staring intently down at the water. “Like, it’s not  _ really _ Waterfall, but if I close my eyes and listen, sometimes it feels like I’m back there.” Their voice is uncharastically melancholy.

“Oh,” Frisk murmurs. They put their arm around Ace’s shoulder without thinking about it.

“Like, I know having the barrier break was a good thing, and everybody’s so much happier up here, but.” They pause, and Frisk is worried for a moment that they’ve gone too far, but then there’s a sniffle, and Frisk can’t stop themself from pulling their friend closer. Ace rests their head against their chest, and Frisk is pretty sure this is the most at peace they’ve felt in years.

“The underground was my home, you know?” Ace continues, slightly muffled. “I knew that place inside out. Like, people said it was too cramped and small, but I always thought that made it better. It was  _ ours. _ There wasn’t anywhere I hadn’t been.”

“You miss it?” Frisk can’t really blame them. The lack of sunlight definitely wasn’t doing anyone any favors, but if that had been all they’d ever known…

“Yeah, man. I do.”

The sun has almost completely set, taking the last embers of light with it. They should really be getting home. They really don’t want to.

“Do you ever…” Ace’s tone is cautious, delicate.

“Do I ever miss where I used to live, before?”

“Yeah.”

Frisk makes a thoughtful sound. “I miss my brother, sometimes.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Frisk echos back.

They’re going to say something else, but then Ace lifts their head to look Frisk in the eye, and the words vanish. They close their eyes and lean forward, just enough for their lips to meet Ace’s, and it’s as if everything is finally falling into place. 

Frisk wraps their arms around themself, shivering. All traces of sunlight are completely gone now, taking the warmth of summer with them and leaving nothing but the faint glow of moonlight to guide them. The park is probably very pretty in the silver lighting, but Frisk’s mind is elsewhere.

They don’t know how long they spent under the faux waterfall with Ace, but at some point things had gotten heated - they can tell they’re blushing just thinking about it - and they’d been trying to shift into a better make out position when they slipped and fell into the water like an idiot. It had grown cold outside by then, which was fine until they’d gotten themself soaking wet.

They don’t care about the mosquitos anymore. They’re cold. They want to go home. Ace is in front of them, leading the way back to their house, occasionally turning back to give Frisk concerned glances. At least, Frisk thinks they’re concerned looks. Maybe they’re rethinking their choice in company. Hopefully they won’t trip.

“Yo, you really don’t want to trade shirts?” Ace makes a point to look straight ahead as they ask for at least the third time. “Mine is still dry, dude.”

“Yours doesn’t have any arm holes.” It’s a good reason, they think. Not the only reason, but a good one. “I’m not dying. I’m just uncomfortable,” they say, teeth chattering.

“We forgot our phones,” Ace says, as if it’s relevant at all.

Apparently neither one of them feel like saying anything after that, and they walk in silence.

They’re going to have to talk about it, but god, Frisk really doesn’t want to. If they talk about it, they know they’re going to say something stupid. Something like _ I love you _ , or _ I don’t know what I would do without you _ , or  _ I missed you so much it felt like I was dying _ .

The usual bullshit.  
  


Toriel’s van is parked in the driveway at Ace’s house, and Frisk’s heart sinks like a stone.

“I’m in so much trouble.”

Ace turns back to offer a weak grin. “Me too, dude.”

They don’t even make it to the porch before the door opens, revealing Toriel and both of Ace’s parents on the inside. None of the adults say anything as the teens step inside, both having the decency to hang their heads.

Toriel is holding a steaming mug of what is most likely tea, and she sets it down on the counter before addressing Frisk. 

“So,” Toriel starts, using fire magic to dry Frisk’s damp shirt, “did the two of you have fun tonight?” Her voice is almost cheerful, but her eyes are narrowed. She manages to look tired and exasperated without sounding it.

Ace seats themself at the table, still hanging their head.

“I’m sorry,” Frisk mumbles. At least they aren’t cold, now.

Ace’s parents are leaning back on the cupboards, frowning, and Toriel gently pushes past them to pour more tea.

“You two really couldn’t be bothered to take your phones?” Ace’s father asks.

“We forgot them,” Ace says.

“It’s true,” Frisk adds. “We really didn’t mean to leave without them. We just got, um,”

“Distracted?” Toriel asks, brow raised. She sets two mugs of tea on the table and motions Frisk to sit. They do.

Frisk feels their face flush red at the insinuation, but thankfully Ace blushes too, so at least they’re not alone in the embarrassment. They take a long drink from the mug, thankful for something hot to drink.

One of Ace’s parents - they both sound the same to Frisk - tuts, and it’s hard to tell if it’s a disapproving tut or a thoughtful tut.

“Oh!” Toriel says, suddenly, and it makes Frisk cringe. “I should send a text message to Sans and let him know you’re both alright. He stayed at the house in case you showed up there instead of here.”

“How did you even know Frisk was coming here, though?” Ace asks. Frisk wants to scream.

Instead of anyone screaming, all three adults burst out into laughter.

“Are you serious?” Both of Ace’s parents ask in unison.

“I must admit, you two are very predictable children.” There’s a hint of a smile in Toriel’s voice. “It is clear that the two of you are very, ah, infatuated with each other.”

Both teens turn red again.

Toriel calms her laughter after a moment. “In any case, it is good to see that you are both alright.”

“The three of us were scared shitless, you know,” Ace’s mother chides.

Toriel frowns at the language, but nods her head in agreement anyway.

“Bad things can happen to kids at night, you know,” Ace’s father adds with a long, irritated sigh.

Toriel claps her paws together. “As enjoyable as the tea and company was, I’m afraid Frisk and I must be going now.” She gives them a pointed look. “I believe we have much to discuss.”

Frisk finishes the rest of their tea in one long gulp before rising, and they offer Ace a weak smile as Toriel rests her paw on their shoulder and starts out the door.

“I’ll text you as soon as I’m ungrounded, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait till Thursday to post this, but I got excited*. This will be the penultimate update for this fic -- like, damn! Also, that nightmare scene was very unnecessary, wasn't it? I like writing nightmare scenes though. 
> 
> *I am very drunk right now
> 
> Also! Concrit still welcome <3  
> Also also! I'm not really feeling the summary, you know? Suggestions are very welcome >:3


	8. Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of an epilogue than a proper chapter, but it's here anyway. :3

Dr. Sullivan, a stern looking woman with her silver hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun, nods sympathetically at Frisk as they finish their story. They’re clutching an only mostly damp tissue, holding it near their face in case the tears start again. Their hands are trembling slightly, which is stupid. All they’ve done for the last thirty minutes is talk.

This is only their third session together, and while Frisk is still leaving out some of the more harrowing details, they’re starting to open up about what happened, back then, when they had been stuck with their fake family. It’s overwhelming, reaching into their memories to drag the past out and examine it in such vivid detail. Sullivan has told them multiple times that they don’t have to talk about the really hard things if they don’t want to. 

(She’s wrong. They do have to talk about it. They’re pretty sure it won’t stop hurting until they stop ignoring it.)

They don’t tell their therapist that they started cutting their arms again after their first session. She’s probably figured it out by now anyway; it’s too warm out for long sleeves, now. This isn’t the first time they’ve relapsed, and it probably won’t be the last. They’ll quit for real eventually. Some day, when the past is far enough away it can’t hurt them anymore.

They’ve been heavily encouraged to keep a journal at home about their feelings, but they’ve been filling it with doodles instead. It helps, probably not as much as the new medication, but they think it’s helping at least a little.

The timer beeps, signalling the end of the session, and Frisk is more than grateful for it to be over. Sullivan smiles at Frisk and offers them another tissue. They take it and leave without saying anything. The sessions may be helping them in the long run, but by the time they’re done, Frisk is so emotionally drained they don’t feel like saying much when they finish.

Sans is waiting for them on the other side of the door, hands stuffed into his pockets as usual. “Heya,” he offers. “Same place?” They’ve been walking down to the fast food place near the office after Frisk’s sessions every week before going home. It’s a thing, now.

Frisk blows their nose on the new tissue before depositing both into the trash bin. They’re too worn out to say anything, so they just nod at their uncle.

They’re curious what Toriel said to him to actually make him stop drinking, but they have a feeling it’s a question better left unasked. Like Frisk, he’s good at hiding his pain, and they wonder if he’s actually quit, or if he’s just better at hiding it now.

They think back to what Dr. Sullivan said during their session today.

_ “But what if I’m just...stuck, like this, forever?” They waved their hand in irritation. “What if there is no ‘getting better’ for me? Like, I just spend my entire life like my uncle and make people waste their time worrying about my worthless ass?”  _

_ “It may seem impossible to ‘get better’ right now, but that’s because you’re just now taking the first steps to recovery. People don’t like to hear it, but the only way to get better is to  _ choose _ to get better. You have to want it. You have to work for it, everyday.” _

“ _ It sounds like you feel guilty for needing to lean on people, Frisk.” They stared at her, dumbfounded, and she continued, “Everyone needs support from time to time, Frisk. Even me - or your mother, for instance. Some of us - like your uncle, maybe - may need more help, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of.  _

_ “It seems like you think you’re doing your loved ones a favor by pretending you’re not hurting, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.Your family loves you, and they want to support you, but they can’t do that if you’re pretending you’re not in pain, Frisk.” _

Maybe Sans is really starting to get better. Maybe they both are.

***  


Toriel wraps them in a hug almost as soon as they get home, probably because they look like they’ve been crying, and they accept it readily. After the hug is finished, she relinquishes their cell phone to them, telling them they’re ungrounded as long as they stay out of trouble.

And then her and Sans get back in her van and leave, and Frisk is pretty sure it’s a date, but they don’t really care about that now that they’ve got their phone back. Well, they care a little, but Ace takes priority.

As promised, they text Ace immediately. They know they’re going to have to talk about what had happened, back in the park, but for now, they settle for a simple, “I miss you, dude,” and their breath catches in their chest as they press send.

They pocket their phone and force themself not to look at it until they’ve made it back to their room and given Ace a chance to reply.

It doesn’t take long for the phone to buzz.

“You’re telling me! I didn’t wanna send this in a text, but I have to say it right now or I’m gonna chicken out, haha. I think I like, love you, bro.”

It would be silly to think that all their problems will be solved now and they’ll live happily forever after, of course, but as their shaking fingers start tapping out a message back, they find themself smiling. Things are finally starting to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this chapter but if I keep editing and nit-picking I'll never get it uploaded. I feel like I have loose ends? This fic may get a rewrite in the future, but for now...I hope you enjoyed it <3


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